


Water’s sweet but blood is thicker

by LittleTurtle95



Series: You only live once (but do you?) [4]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Old Guard (Movie 2020) Fusion, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bill Denbrough Needs a Hug, Character Study, Georgie Denbrough Lives, Georgie Denbrough is Missing, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Undeath, Presumed Dead, Sad Bill Denbrough, Stanley Uris is a Good Friend, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25539340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleTurtle95/pseuds/LittleTurtle95
Summary: “It’s raining, and he despises it. They all do. Stan is used to a much warmer weather and he hates cold, Georgie doesn’t like it because he hates when his clothes get soaked and Bill… every time it rains Bill feels like he’s dying again, like his brother’s dying again in his arms.”Or, every time Bill’s world falls to pieces the sky is mourning too.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough & Georgie Denbrough, Bill Denbrough & Stanley Uris
Series: You only live once (but do you?) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843612
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Water’s sweet but blood is thicker

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my Immortal!Losers AU. I strongly recommend to read at least the first part before this. You won’t need to read the others. 
> 
> If you don’t want to read anything else but you’re thirsty for Bill and Georgie angst – God knows how much more fics we need about them – just know that they’re immortal (they die but resurrect immediately after), then centuries later they find out Stan is immortal as well, and after this fic one after the other it happens to all Losers in various points in history.

**_Blood_ ** _ , /ˈbləd/, noun: _

_ > the fluid that circulates in the heart, arteries, capillaries, and veins of a vertebrate; _

_ > persons related through common descent; _

_ > the vital principle, life; _

_ > a person regarded as a source of energy, vitality, or vigor. _

**_In one's blood:_ ** _ ingrained in one's nature, occurring as an innate or seemingly hereditary principle, inclination, or talent. _

* * *

**850 A.D.**

“Brother,” the voice is broken and the kid’s clear eyes are numb. “Brother, I’m hungry.”

Bjørn knows the moment is coming. 

He tries to hide his heartbreak as he smiles. 

“I kno- I know,” he whispers, soothing. “We’ll f- find something to eat s- soon.”

It’s a lie and he knows it. They’ve been wandering in the woods for days and he’s not used to hunting. They have a farm –  _ used _ to have a farm, now they only have ashes and each other – and he knows how to breed the sheep and milk the cows, but he can’t provide food to his brother in the woods, he doesn’t know how. 

Gunnar is hungry. Bjørn knows it because he is hungry too, and his brother is younger than him, and weak, he’s not even a man yet.

Sometimes, despite being sixteen already, Bjørn doesn’t feel like a man himself.

“I’m tired. I can’t… I can’t…” Gunnar’s knees collapse and he falls on the ground, then groans and closes his eyes. “I think I’ll take a nap.”

Bjørn knows this is the moment, and he knows there’s nothing he can do about it. 

He throws his father’s Dane Axe on the ground, unused, and sits there, dirt and mud staining his clothes. Suddenly a lightning lights up the sky, a white bright flash blinding him for a moment. 

He crosses his legs and lets his brother stay with the head on his lap, stroking his hair gently. 

“I f- failed you,” he says then, his voice broken. “I failed you, I’m s- sorry. I’m sorry.”

Drops of rains start falling, slow but steady, one after another, and to him they’re the tears he can’t afford to let out. 

“Don’t worry, Bjørn,” the kid says, his voice even weaker than before. “You’ll make me a new one.”

That’s when the first tear falls, but Gunnar doesn’t notice. He has his eyes closed, and he’s already soaked wet. 

Of course his brother thinks that’s why he failed him. They had left the ship at home. The wooden ship Bjørn carved him with his Seax Knife, an exact copy of the ship their father sailed with many moons ago.

They had left it at home when they ran while their longhouse burned to the ground, enemies arrived from the sea had claimed their territory and the only thing Bjørn could do was take his brother and run, as fast as he could, sometimes carrying him in his arms.

But all of it had been useless. Because they haven’t found a new village yet, and they’re alone and starving. And he doesn’t know how to hunt. And it’s Gunnar’s moment now, because he didn’t feed him, and he’s dying in his arms without even realising it.

And it’s raining. More and more.

One drop at a time. From the sky and from his eyes.

“Yes,” he says, trying to keep his voice more steady than he feels. “Of- of course I’ll m- make you a new one. And we’ll t- take it to the Ocean and s- see if it f- floats.”

“It does. It will. You’re good at it, of course it’ll work,” the kid whispers, and it’s so faint Bjørn almost doesn’t hear it. “I’m going to sleep for a while, brother. Wake me up when you found something to eat, okay?”

“Yes, s- sleep now. I’ll be here when you wa- wake up.”

“I know.”

That is the last thing he tells him. Then he stays silent, and his breathing gets slower. Bjørn puts a hand flat on his chest to feel as the rise and fall of his lungs gets uneven. His eyes sting, and his clothes are drenched, and he can’t see clearly because it’s raining and his eyes are full of tears. 

Gunnar’s body is wet, and cold, but he doesn’t even try to warm him up, it’ll be useless anyway. He prefers not to disturb his rest. 

When the breathing stops he screams until his lungs are on fire, and the sky is mourning too, raging in thunder. 

He feels his body weak as well and he has no reason to keep fighting anymore, so he lays next to him, taking one of the kid’s hands in his. 

The ground is wet, the sky is wet, his brother’s body is wet and his heart is weeping. 

He’s hungry and he feels like drowning. 

When death claims him, he welcomes it with open arms.

**1603**

Bjorn’s name is already William and Gunnar’s George when the worst happens. 

It’s raining, and he despises it. They all do. Stan is used to a much warmer weather and he hates cold, Georgie doesn’t like it because he hates when his clothes get soaked and Bill… every time it rains Bill feels like he’s dying again, like his brother’s dying again in his arms.

“I hate this country. I’m glad we’re leaving. We should head to Greece next,” Stanley says, they’re almost home now.

“Sounds nice, we haven’t been to Greece since one year after picking you up. It’s been more than two hundreds years now.”

“Remind me why we’ve decided to come to England even if we knew it would have been like this!” Stan asks, trying to move his wet curls behind his ear, rain making it an impossible task. He huffs in frustration.

“Witch trials,” Bill answers, rolling his eyes up. They’ve been helping women to escape from the hands of the Holy Inquisition, another recent invention of mankind that leaves Bill speechless and mildly disgusted every time he thinks about it.

“Yeah, witch trials. By far the worst idea humans have ever had.”

“Don’t worry, give it another century at worst and they’ll be over. People can do things that stupid only for a short amount of time.”

“It’s been hundreds of years, Billy.”

“What did I say?” Bill asks, a small smile on his lips despite the rain that’s turning into a storm. “A short amount of time indeed.”

Stan pushes him lightly as they get into the building and look for their spare apartment. Bill is already rolling his eyes up. They had left without his brother yesterday because he’s being insufferable lately, he always wants to do too much, and he gets injured on missions and heals in public every time, and Bill and Stan have to clean up his mess, as to say they have to kill everybody that found out about their secret. 

Those are dangerous times for people like them, they can’t afford being exposed now.

So Bill lied, he told him they were going somewhere where kids weren’t allowed, his classic excuse because despite being almost eight hundred years old his brother looks still ten, the same young innocent face he had when he closed his eyes in the woods under the rain for the first time. He had died a lot of times after that. Every time he does, Bill’s heart still stops. 

“Where are you, little freak?” he asks as they get close to the door. He takes the keys from his pocket but just as he pushes it, it opens under his touch. 

“Georgie how many times did I tell you to lock the goddamn-” 

As he gives a look in the house he freezes. “Georgie!” his voice is hoarse as he manages to get it out of his throat. “Georgie! Can you hear me?”

“Oh no,” Stan hisses, as he stares at the scene in front of him. 

The house is a mess.

The furniture is thrown all over the place, there is shattered glass everywhere on the floor, the food that was supposed to be on the table is a puddle like someone had stepped on it and then there’s the blood. So much blood.

“ _ Gunnar _ !” Bill cries out, running to the only other room in the house. “Where are you?”

A woman that lives in the same building, one that sometimes crosses path with them in the morning, comes to see what’s happening.

“Are you looking for the demon’s spawn?”

“What?” Stan asks, a sense of dread already overwhelming him. “What do you mean, madam? You know what happened?”

“The inquisitor came this morning to take the kid. I was there. He really was a demon, I saw him killing several men with his bare hands and his knife alone. They managed to cut his throat and, I swear to God and all that’s Holy, the demon died and then came back, his skin untouched. I’ve never seen something like that before, may God save my soul after what I’ve witnessed. The devil walks among us.”

“Where is him? Where did they take him?” Bill asks, his hands shaking, grabbing the woman’s clothes with both hands and pushing her two steps back. 

She freezes then, petrified, all colour gone from her face. “Are you too a child of the devil, young boy?”

“ _ Where did they take him? _ ” his grip on her tightens. “Speak, or I’ll kill you.”

“Bill-” Stan whispers, trying to calm him down. Bill ignores him.

“He couldn’t be killed so they locked him up in an iron coffin. They took it on a ship, they wanted to drop it in the ocean where he’ll lie forever. I don’t know anything more.”

For one moment Stan is sure he’s going to kill her. Bill is shaking so much that the woman is a mess too, staring at him with horror in her eyes. 

“No,” he says, then he lets her go. “No, no!”

He pushes the woman shoving her against the wall and starts running. Stan follows, but he knows it’s useless. The ocean’s big, bigger than it ever was, all the way to the New World. 

He follows Bill’s shape in the rain and the chaos of the city, he doesn’t know how Bill knows where is going, his wet hair flying in all directions, his feet sometimes almost slipping on the wet pebbles of the street. 

When they finally reach the port Stan’s lungs are screaming. He sees Bill running towards the water and sprints, grabbing his clothes and stopping him before it’s too late. They both fall on the ground rolling in a mess of weapons and limbs, and Bill starts screaming.

Stan’s pinning him down now, almost no one in sight, the worst storm he’d seen in ages breaks the sky, the Ocean big and angry fights the wind like a wounded animal. 

“Let me go! Let me go Sroel! Let me go!”

Stanley almost hesitates. Bill hadn’t used his birth given name in decades, maybe even a century.

“You can’t just jump in the Ocean and swim all the way there. You don’t even know where they’re headed!”

“Let me go!” Bill screams again, like he hasn’t heard him. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. I swear I will if you don’t let me go now!”

Stanley sees the fire in his eyes and the pain in his face. He sees the horror and the ache, the fear and the guilt all at once, and he believes him. He believes he’s gonna kill him, unless he kills him first.

“I love you Bill,” he says, and he means it. 

He takes his kilij then, the only thing he has left from his land, and does something he has never done before, thrusting it in his stomach.

He watches then as his friend bleeds, and finally lets go.

“Why did you do that?” Bill asks with his last breath, his eyes already glassy, drops of rain falling on his face and blending with his tears. “ _ Why Sroel _ ?”

“We’ll find him. We’ll find him, you and I. But we need to think first. We need a plan.”

“Please-”

“Go now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

**1799**

It rains 

He hates it when it rains.

He swims back up and gasps for air. He’s used to not being able to breathe, he’s used to swim for days without a break, passing out and dying and then waking up floating with his face down and trying again. 

He’s been looking for him for almost two hundred years now. Sometimes he feels like he’s the one who’s drowning.

He whishes.

Every time he closes his eyes he sees it happening. 

_ “They don’t accept children, Georgie.” _

_ “But it’s not fair! I’m not a child, I’m older than all of them combined!” _

_ “You’ll blow up our cover, we can’t take you with us. Next time I’ll let you come, okay? You’ll lead.” _

_ “You say it every time. You say it every time but recently you never let me. I’m starting to think you don’t want me around anymore.” _

_ His innocent face is a sharp contrast with his eyes that look as old as the world. He’s seen kingdoms rise and fall, he has adjusted to new languages and then he’s seen them fade to extinction. _

_ “Don’t be silly, Georgie. You know I’ll never tire to have you around. Next time I’ll let you lead the mission, really.”  _

_ He knows it’s a lie. He knows it’s a lie it but he says it anyway, because that’s what brothers do, they get bored, they love but they get bored, and he doesn’t want to fight right now. _

_ “Promise?” _

_ “Promise.” _

That lie is the last thing he ever tells him.

He holds his breath and sinks again underwater, drowning his thoughts with him as he goes. 

One, two, three, one hundred times. One thousand times more.

He doesn’t remember when it’s the last time he had his feet on the ground, and he knows he needs to go. He’s more efficient when he sleeps at least once in a few days, he works better than when he dies from exhaustion and wakes up with his face underwater. 

It rains, but he’s soaked wet anyway, salt on his lips and his eyes itching, then healing, then hitching again.

He’s not surprised when he gets to the beach and sees him waiting.

Stanley is standing with his bare feet on the sand, he doesn’t seem to care about the weather. He looks steady, more than anything Bill had ever seen, and when he’s looking at him his gaze does not falter. 

“Have I ever told you I hate this country? It rains way too much,” he says calm, like that’s not the very first thing he’s said to him in decades.

“I know why you’re here. The answer is no.”

Stanley sighs. “He sees us in his dreams, he’s already looking for us. He’s alone, Bill, and he’s scared. We have to go.”

“He’s in  _ France _ , Stan. I can’t go to France, you know this, they dropped him in the Ocean, on the way to the New World. It wouldn’t make sense for me to go there.”

The New World is not as new anymore, and for Bill it never was anyway. His people used to travel there before he was even born, but he can’t help but call it like that every time. It makes him sound as old as he feels.

“Bill, I need you to-”

“How did you find me?” 

The question is so sudden that Stan hesitates for a moment. 

“I always find my way back to you.”

Bill scoffs. “Sounds pretentious.”

“But I _did_ find you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did,” he whispers. “Listen, I can’t do this. I already failed him too many times. I can’t give up on him again. I just can’t. Go and take the kid, maybe bring him to me when you find him, but please go alone.”

“It has to be you. I need _you_ to do this.”

“You’re good. You’ll be fine.”

“No! I am  _ not  _ fine!” Stan says and his cool mask breaks even if only for a moment. He tries to wipe off the rain from his face with his sleeve. “And this is not about me. This is about the new kid, who’s confused, and alone, and we should-”

“You know who’s alone? You know who’s really alone, Stanley?”

“You can’t help him. He’s not coming back.”

“He’s at the bottom of the ocean, in the dark, completely alone, and he’s drowning. Over and over again, he can’t breathe, he’s been drowning for two hundred years! Can you imagine how it feels?”

“Actually I can. That’s how I died the first time, remember? I got trapped underwater and I’ve been there for hours, I died so many times and I kept waking up again. I was terrified. I wished I could just die. It’s atrocious, it makes you go crazy. And I’ve been down only for half a day. What he’s feeling right now... it's beyond human comprehension.”

“Why are you telling me this? Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t… I don’t hate you. I’m telling you this because I won’t ever lie to you, even if you might hate me for that. And when I say he’s gone forever – because he is Bill, you have to understand this – I do it because it’s the truth and you know this. It’s time for you to accept this.”

Bill feels a lump in his throat and he knows he’s going to break again, soon. He already feels his eyes wet. 

Everything’s wet. When things go to hell everything is always wet.

_ Not now. Not now. _

“But you lied to me once. You said we would have… we would have found him, together, you and I,” he says, and his voice is so weak that for the first time since Stanley met him he looks like the sixteen years old he once was. 

“That wasn’t a lie. I thought… I really thought we-”

“He’s not coming back,” Bill whispers and then the dam shatters and it feels like a stab with a burning knife at the base of his throat and everything falls on him again and Stan clings to him like it’s the only thing that’s keeping the both of them alive and he holds him in one piece afraid that if he lets go Bill is going to crumble in front of him and never be whole again.

“No, he is not. He is not coming back. Bill I’m so sorry, he’s not coming back.”

Bill pushes him away and they part, he’s still trying to calm his breath.

He looks one more time at the rough sea, dark and stormy just as his soul feels. 

“When is the last time you slept on an actual bed?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

“Well, next time will be today. I’ve rented a double room. Tomorrow we’ll leave to Paris.”

Bill looks away at last, but he knows from now on he’s going to see the Ocean wherever he goes. That’s his weight to carry, his price to pay.

“I think I’ve forgotten French.”

“You’ve never known this French anyway. It changed a lot over the last century. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

That is the last day he ever swims. 

* * *

**2020**

The cable laying ship is struggling on its way in the middle of the Ocean. Despite the storm that’s clearly coming, they action the cable turntable and watch as the wires sink in front of them, deeper and deeper underwater. 

Suddenly the machine stops with a  _ clung _ .

“What’s wrong?” the boss asks, leaning on the deck rail to give a closer look.

“I don’t know, it looks like something’s blocking the way. Maybe it’s a rock or a shipwreck, sometimes it happens. The Ocean is full of shit these days. Should we send someone down to check?”

“No, roll the cable back up, maybe it’s going to break whatever it is. We have to stick to the position they gave us.”

“Yessir.” he says, and gives the order. “We’ll start to roll back up in five… four… three… two… one…”

The wires resist for one long second then something snaps. The men all rush to the taffrail on the stern, looking down at what’s coming out of the sea. 

Whatever it is, it looks dark. And wrong.

All the voices start rising.

“What the fuck… what the fuck is that?”

“Looks like a coffin, there must be a shipwreck down there.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Shipwrecks are very common here.”

“That shit is awful, let’s throw it back where it was.”

“Guys, there’s someone there.”

“Don’t joke Rob, that’s mean, someone once was really down there, probably ba corpse. Show some respect.”

“There is  _ still  _ someone down there, you idiot! Look!”

“Hey, Robert’s right! That looks like a face!”

“Guys, I think we should put it down. I think-”

Then, a thunder roars in the distance and a childish scream pierces the air.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m a sucker for Bill & Georgie angst, don’t @ me.
> 
> Also,,,, me???? Projecting my survivor’s guilt on Bill????  
> More likely than you think!
> 
> Don’t worry, next part is hopefully going to be a crackfic.


End file.
